Forgotten Wife: My Ex-Husband Regrets It After I Left novel Chapter 117

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Sienna’s POV

As I walked, I noticed the other people. A father cradled his fussy daughter, a mother busily checking her shopping list on her phone. They all seemed preoccupied with their own worlds, but none of them seemed devastated. For a moment, I envied the calm. But then I realized, maybe they had their storms too, just invisible. Just like me.

I paused in front of the fruit rack. Shiny red apples were neatly arranged, fresh green grapes glistening with dew. I picked a few and weighed them. Meanwhile, Noah was busy selecting oranges, his tiny hands putting them one by one into a plastic bag. I watched him, amazed at how seriously he was taking this small “task.”

“My son so smart,” I said, patting his head. Noah smiled proudly, his cheeks slightly flushed.

Noah took my hand as I stopped in front of the cereal counter. “Mommy,” he called softly.

“Hm?” I turned my head, meeting his suddenly serious eyes.

“Are we really going to live together?” he asked, his voice low and cautious, as if afraid his answer would hurt.

I swallowed hard and crouched down to his level. “We’ll try, honey,” I replied softly. “Mommy and Daddy want to try to fix everything. So you can have a home where you don’t have to run back and forth anymore. So everyone will have more peace of mind.”

Noah nodded slowly and hugged me tightly. It was a small hug, but enough to make my eyes burn.

“I’m happy,” he said softly.

I rubbed his back, trying to catch my breath. “Mommy too,” I whispered.

The trip to the cashier passed in a warm silence. Noah was cheerful again, chatting about the ice cream he was going to have later that night. I carried my groceries to the counter, paid, and then we headed out, back to the taxi.

The afternoon sky was turning yellow, then orange. The streets were busy, but somehow I didn’t feel claustrophobic. Maybe it was because today I’d weathered a small storm without falling. Maybe it was also because, for the first time in a long time, I felt in control of what mattered most, my child, and how I was taking care of him.

Noah leaned on my shoulder again on the way home. I stroked his hair, looked out the window, and quietly told myself, “We’ll be fine, honey. Even if the storm doesn’t subside, we’ll still walk together.”

The taxi stopped in front of the house. I gently patted Noah’s shoulder, making him blink slowly, half sleepily, half reluctantly, as he got out. “Come on, honey,” I whispered, trying to be gentle so he wouldn’t

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fuss.

He nodded and slowly got out, still hugging his robot tightly. I carried the shopping bags, their weight

tugging at my hand, but somehow they felt light compared to the burden I was carrying in my mind.

The house stood still, as if holding a thousand unfinished stories, some sweet, many bitter. I took a deep

breath. Maybe, just maybe, this time this house would have a new, better chapter.

As soon as I entered, the air inside felt calm. Quiet. The only sounds were our footsteps and the squeezing of the shopping bags. Noah immediately placed his doll on the sofa and sat down next to it, seemingly exhausted after a day of playing.

I carried the groceries into the kitchen. One by one, I put them in their proper places. Vegetables in the refrigerator, eggs on the shelf, spices in the cupboard, chicken in the freezer. This small routine, which once felt trivial, now felt soothing. I felt like I was rebuilding something that had long been crumbling.

When I turned around, Noah was standing in the kitchen doorway, leaning back with his eyes half- closed. “Mommy,” he called softly.

“Hmm?” I replied, still busy arranging the groceries.

“Noah’s so sleepy.”

I smiled slightly, then leaned in, stroking his hair. “Want to go to bed first?”

He nodded slowly. “Give me a hug.”

I laughed softly, tired but warm. “Oh my, Mommy’s such a spoiled boy.” But I gave him the hug anyway. It was small, warm, and somehow it eased a bit of the ache in my chest.

I led him into the bedroom and accompanied him to bed. Noah immediately lay down, pulling the blanket over him. I sat beside him, gently stroking his hair.

“Mommy,” his voice was soft again.

“What, honey?”

“Don’t go again, okay?”

A simple question, but like a dagger that cut and embraced at the same time. I swallowed hard, then nodded slowly, “Yes, honey. Mommy won’t leave again.”

She smiled slightly, then closed her eyes. Within seconds, her breathing began to even out, a sign that she had fallen asleep.

I sat there for a few minutes, staring at her peaceful, innocent face, far from the complexities of the adult world competing for ego and love. I silently prayed that all these storms wouldn’t destroy her. That no matter what happened, I could remain her protector, the last wall standing when everyone else had left.

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I stood slowly, carefully closing her bedroom door so as not to make a sound, then walked back to the living room. The house was still quiet. There was no sign of Liam coming home.

In that silence, I finally realized that I was afraid. Afraid of making another mistake. Afraid of giving hope and then destroying it myself. But for now, I have to be strong for Noah, for myself, and even for Liam, if we’re truly going to save this family.

I sat on the couch, hugged my knees, took a deep breath, and let one tear fall, just one, enough to ease the tightness in my chest. Then, slowly, I smiled bitterly. We’re still here. Still standing. That’s enough for

tonight.

I leaned my head back against the back of the couch, staring blankly at the ceiling. The living room lights dimmed, casting soft shadows on the walls. The ticking of the clock was audible, as if reminding me that time was ticking, even though I was still trapped in the same whirlpool of thoughts.

I wanted to believe that everything would be okay, but the image of Emily and her words lingered, like a stain that was hard to erase. “Liam’s just used to you, not in love with you.” The words echoed over and over, trying to shatter my long–shattered faith.

I hugged my knees tighter, my body trembling softly. I know I shouldn’t be drowning in fear, but when loneliness engulfs me like this, the defenses I’ve built seem to crumble bit by bit. I want to believe in Liam, I want to believe in the small family we can still build. But that trust is fragile, like thin glass that can shatter with the slightest touch.

I slowly got up and walked to the kitchen. I grabbed a clear glass from the shelf and poured some cold water. The liquid slid down my throat, soothing me somewhat, but not enough to ease my anxiety. I stared at my faint reflection in the kitchen window. There were dark circles under my eyes, a smile that felt unfamiliar, and a look in my eyes that betrayed my exhaustion.

Back in the living room, I reached for the thin blanket folded on the chair. I wrapped it around myself, trying to create a warmth that didn’t come from the fabric, but from the certainty that I wasn’t alone. Noah was in the bedroom, sleeping peacefully. Liam, I don’t know where he is now, but he should be coming home.

I closed my eyes, letting my mind wander to memories. Times when everything felt simple, Liam, Noah, and I sitting in a small garden, laughing over trivial things. Back then, I believed our love was enough to conquer the world. Now, I know that love alone is never enough. There’s loyalty, courage, and choices

that must be fought for.

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